


The Dogs of War

by amandasarmada



Series: What Happened Next - Season 5 [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Action, Angst, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Politics, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandasarmada/pseuds/amandasarmada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative Episode for Season 5, Episode 2.  Zoey Bartlet is still missing, and tensions are high. Ensemble fic, featuring C.J./Danny and Josh/Donna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dogs of War

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of my AU series, "What Happened Next: Season 5". It's an alternate look at what the show could have been if Sorkin hadn't left - I don't think I was the only one who thought the show lost a lot of its defining heart and camaraderie in the later seasons, and I wanted to try and recapture that. A longer explanation can be found in the series description, but basically, this is an alternate season 5, and each story is a separate "episode." This being the first episode, it's transitional and acts as a sort of companion to the real canon episode, but as the series progresses I'll be veering off in my own direction. Tell me what you think!
> 
> Sidenote: Elements (and even a few direct lines) of this story have been borrowed from the original episode. These are the property of their original creators, and should not be interpreted as my own work.

o-o-o-o-o OPENING DRUMROLL o-o-o-o-o

Tucked away in his office in the heart of the West Wing, Leo McGarry sat at his desk with his back straight, carefully concealing his sweaty palms. His mind was clear, as it always was in times of crisis, and he steadily calmed his breathing, making sure his hands had been discreetly rubbed dry before he asked Margaret to send in the Qumari ambassador.

The man entered a moment later, sitting himself across from him, and stared at him, clearly affronted.

“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Ambassador,” Leo drawled, raising his face so his eyes met with his opponent's.

The man nodded, bristling with indignation and suppressed anger. “I must first say, I wish to express the Crown Prince's outrage at the brutal assassination of his cousin, and his sadness with the events of the last few days.”

Leo raised his eyebrows, keeping his expression neutral. “That's funny. I wish to express the President of the United States's outrage at the planned bombing of the Golden Gate Bridge by the former Qumari Defense Minister – God rest his soul.” His eyes flashed, though his voice remained calm. “Of course, I wouldn't want to take attention away from the President's more recent outrage, which rather supersedes his grief over your fallen Royal.”

The ambassador's lips tightened. “If you have sufficient evidence to prove this accusation...”

“We can't share it, and you damn well know it,” Leo said, his eyes crinkling in a disbelieving glare. “I'm not discussing this. I brought you in here to inform you that we're bombing the Kazir training camps in Tamir and Lani.”

The ambassador stood, startled. “When?” he demanded.

“Right now,” Leo replied.

o-o-o-o-o OPENING CREDITS o-o-o-o-o

“Hey! What took you so long?” Josh asked urgently, finally spotting his assistant walk back into the bullpen.

“Excuse me?” she replied, raising one delicate eyebrow, seemingly unphased.

He grimaced, the stress of the past several hours written across his face. “Never mind. Did you ask Ginger?” Josh asked, walking with Donna through the bullpen.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “She said it was a no.”

Josh ran his hands through his hair, clearly aggravated. “That's _it_!” He exclaimed.

Josh paced through the cubicles, shouting at Donna, Toby, Will, and anyone else who would listen.

“I talked to Leo. _None_ of us were invited. This is bull crap!” He shouted, as anxious and exasperated faces looked back at him. “You know what this means? The Republicans are meeting in secret. They're plotting to start _legislating_.” Toby sighed, rubbing his face with his hands and opening his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by the deputy's continuing tirade.

“Partial birth abortion, school vouchers – these are key issues, and all we can do is twiddle our thumbs!” Josh lowered his voice. “I told you this was a mistake. The entire Democratic party has been rendered powerless. They're going to force through legislation that Bartlet wouldn't sign in a million years - we have to fight back, we have to _get serious_!” He shouted, giving a jump and slapping the ceiling in frustration.

“We have to focus on finding a Vice-President,” Will argued. “Walken didn't sound like he was messing around. If they introduce legislation, we'll fight it, but the whole country wants to know our government is still strong, and I think there's a chance if Walken appoints someone, enough Democrats will bend. This _is_ serious, Josh. A Republican could get confirmed. That has to come first. We have to protect the office, and the party.”

“I'm _trying_ to protect the party!” Josh yelled.

“Josh,” Toby interrupted in his soft, somber voice, looking tired as he touched his friend's arm. “Take a breath. Will's right. If a Republican bill is opened up, you'll be the first one on the Hill, whipping votes. In the meantime, we need to leak it to the Press what the Republicans are planning, and we need to settle on a VP.” Josh groaned. “Come on,” Toby said sternly. “Let's get to work.” He turned to Will. “And _you_ ,” he sighed. “Come on. We've got some speeches to write.”

o-o-o-o-o COMMERCIAL o-o-o-o-o

“Good morning everyone.” C.J. gazed out at the mass of press – every seat in her press room was full, and visiting reporters lined the walls. A flashbulb went off, but she she'd long ago gotten used to the sudden short bursts of blinding light, and continued. “First of all, the White House would like to extend its congratulations on President Walken's successor as the newly-appointed Speaker of the House, Jeffrey Haffley.” She cleared her throat. “Now, I'm going to kick this briefing off with a breaking story that's sure to be a big one in the next few news cycles.” C.J. looked around the room. “Late last night, President Walken ordered the attack of three Kazir training camps located in Qumar, which Intelligence informs us have been posing under the guise of religious schools. Twenty planes, consisting of 12 F-14B Tomcats and 8 F-A18E Super Hornets, flying off the U.S.S. George Washington in the Persian Gulf, bombed three strategic targets - early estimates on fatalities are still being calculated. All twenty carriers were successful, and are currently en route home. Chris.”

“C.J., is there concern within the White House that the bombing of the religious schools will lead the suspected kidnappers to murder Zoey Bartlet?”

“As I said, these were _not_ religious schools, they are confirmed terrorist training camps,” she said calmly, her eyes prickling uncomfortably. “As to your question, of course the concern has been raised, but President Walken feels it is important to convey the message to any and all enemies of America's freedom that the United States does not negotiate with terrorists.” She took a deep breath, hating herself. She spotted Danny watching her from the back, and tried to steady her footing, feeling faint.

“Should we take that to mean that there is still uncertainty as to whether Qumari terrorists are behind the kidnapping?”

“No, Steve, it was a figure of speech. The FBI and Secret Service are confident that Kazir terrorists are the perpetrators of this attack, which we are considering to be more than a kidnapping, and rather an attack on our nation.” She gazed out at the crowd.

“C.J., has President Bartlet been briefed on the attack on Qumari camps, and if so, did the briefing take place before or after the strikes were carried out - and did he have a comment?”

“No comment,” C.J. replied, deliberately being ambiguous about the first half of the question.

“C.J.” Katie wasn't buying it, and neither were the others.

“President Bartlet was notified after the mission was carried out. He is stationed in the residence with the First Lady and their family, where he will remain throughout the day, working with FBI agents to track information relating to his daughter's disappearance.”

o-o-o-o-o

Back in the residence, Jed Bartlet stood with his hands behind his back, gazing out the window onto the grounds in silence.

**FLASHBACK:** **October 1998**

“Daddy, you're coming, right? You promised.” Zoey's excited young voice drifted over the line as she stood next to her mother in a dressing room in New Hampshire, a powder blue dress draped over her. She giggled, doing a little twirl for her mother's benefit, and smiling sweetly at her reflection.

“I promised you I would, didn't I?” He tried to sound jovial. “I'm going to do everything in my power to be there, sweetheart” he assured her.

“Well, you'd better. And if you don't, I guess I'll get to wear the red dress with the low neckline,” Zoey teased, knowing it would get under her father's skin.

“ _Hmph._ The Secret Service itself couldn't keep me away,” Jed promised, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

“Okay, Dad.” His daughter smiled, catching her mother's eye in the mirror. “Thanks – I love you.”

o-o-o-o-o

C.J. hurried from the briefing room as quickly as possible, but still wasn't able to evade the redheaded reporter who had spent the past ten minutes trying to decide whether or not he should make eye contact with her.

“Danny, what are you doing here?” she asked exasperatedly, bringing her hand to her face as they turned the corner.

“C.J., you don't get banned from the press room for printing a story the President doesn't want released. I work here.”

“Yeah, well, I don't think anyone's told President Walken that,” she said tightly, her eyes scanning the hall for any sign of one of Walken's men. Danny gazed at her steadily.

“I can take care of myself, C.J.,” Danny said quietly.

She met his gaze with hesitancy, summoning her breath from deep in her throat. “Just...tread lightly, okay?” she answered, her voice low.

“Well, that's what I'm known for. Keeping my head down, never stirring up trouble.” Danny gave her a small smile. C.J. didn't return it.

“I'm serious, Danny.”

He looked at her, communicating paragraphs with his eyes. “I know, C.J. I appreciate it.” He gazed at her, studying her expression.

She only nodded, averting her gaze to the ground as she stepped past him.

o-o-o-o-o

“Leo, the Republicans are meeting again, and my money is on serious, sweeping legislation being a top priority before Walken gets booted out the door. VP is just the tip of the iceberg-”

“Josh-” Donna's soft voice interrupted, but Josh didn't even glance over, caught up in his monologue as they stood around the bullpen.

“-This isn't prayers-in-school stuff, it's deep cuts to food stamps, partial-birth bans, it's-”

“JOSH.”

“What?” he asked, slightly irritated. His gaze followed Donna's to the television. Leo was already gazing at it, traces of shock, horror, and ultimately, recognition, on his face.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

It was Zoey Bartlet, and she looked bad. Her eyes were closed, her hair covering her bruised and lacerated face. “Is she even alive?” Donna whispered. “She looks like she's-” She grabbed Josh's hand.

“She's alive,” Leo said quietly.

“Who's next to her?”

“That's Lewis Berryhill.” Leo stared.

Suddenly the newscaster's voiceover could be heard. Someone had turned up the volume.

“I repeat, this is breaking news – a video of Zoey Bartlet was transmitted digitally to us only minutes ago. It shows the First Daughter holding today's copy of The Washington Post, with what appears to be a circle around an article discussing the assassination of Abdul Shariff. _A warning, once again, this content features graphic violence and may be disturbing to sensitive viewers._ ” The reporter took a deep breath. “Next to Miss Bartlet appear to be Secretary of State Lewis Berryhill, President Pro Tempore Jerry Rigsby, and Laura Fitzwallace, wife of Admiral Percy Fitzwallace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”

“Oh my god,” Josh breathed.

“And we have a translation of the kidnappers' speech now,” the newscaster continued.

Donna flinched, seeing the man onscreen bring a knife to Zoey's cheek, pulling it away a moment later with blood dripping.

“Their message is: 'In retaliation for the brutal slaughter of Muslim innocents, and to show that we do not bow to demonic American imperialism, we have abducted additional prisoners. In six hours, we kill one of them. In another six, it will be a second victim. Six after that, a third. In 24 hours, we will murder the President's daughter.” The newscaster paused. “We have named our demands. The release of the Pakistani prisoners, and the immediate removal of American troops from Qumar. You have 24 hours, or she dies.”

o-o-o-o-o

Title: SIX HOURS BEFORE FIRST SCHEDULED ASSASSINATION

Walken and Leo seated themselves in the Situation Room, Leo taking careful note of the hardened look on Fitzwallace's face.

“What do we know?” Walken asked.

“The FBI is trying to trace the source of the email sent to the news outlet. It looks like they bounced it off several different proxies, but we're confident we can find something.” Agent Casper reported.

“The Secret Service is investigating the disappearances of the new victims. We have eye-witness reports of suspicious activity on Potomac two hours ago, we think that's where at least Berryhill was taken, possibly the others as well.” Nancy spoke up. “It's possible Laura was targeted specifically in retaliation, and the others were merely nearby, considering the kidnapper's history with an over-reliance on chance - but we're not ruling anything out.”

“Fine. What do we target?”

“Sir?” Nancy asked.

Walken glared at them. “We're working on a rescue. Now I want to know what we're doing in retaliation. Our message wasn't strong enough. I'm going to show the terrorists I wasn't bluffing. We don't negotiate.” He looked at Fitzwallace. “Do you need to excuse yourself?”

Fitzwallace gazed at him.

o-o-o-o-o COMMERCIAL o-o-o-o-o

Abigail Bartlet sat with her granddaughter on the couch in the residence, trying not to stare at the TV screen. The girl was almost sixteen, but she didn't have her mother's height; like her grandparents, she was small, and she looked younger than her age as she curled up next to the First Lady, hiding her face in her grandmother's shoulder.

“Grandma,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, baby,” Abbey replied softly.

“Do you remember...do you remember a few years ago, when they posted that interview I gave, where I spoke up in support of abortion? And I got that doll with the knife in it?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Abbey frowned, remembering.

“I've said other stuff too. Dad's told me to keep my mouth shut, but...” Her voice shook, and she wiped away tears. “Stuff gets out. Rumors get started, in the press. It gets out.”

“Why do you bring it up, Annie?” Abbey turned so she could look at the girl, concerned.

“Because some of the stuff I've said could piss Muslim fundamentalists off,” she said quietly.

“Oh, sweetie, no,” Abbey replied, pulling her in close again. “This is no one's fault,” she said firmly. She pulled away, just long enough to make eye contact. “You hear me? It's nobody's fault, and nothing is going to happen to anyone else. You're safe, and Aunt Zoey is going to turn up safe too. You got that sweetheart?” She hugged her fiercely. “You wait. They're going to find her, and Grandpa is going to make sure there is hell to pay.”

“I'm sorry, Grandma,” Annie murmured, hot tears on her face, as Abigail Bartlet gently shushed her. “I'm just really sorry.”

o-o-o-o-o

Leo whipped through the halls, making his way back towards his office. “Margaret, I want everyone back here, now,” he demanded, slamming the door behind him. “NOW!” He shouted.

o-o-o-o-o

Title: Five and a Half Hours Before First Scheduled Assassination

o-o-o-o-o

“This is garbage,” Toby spat out, staring at the paper in front of him.

“No, don't hold back, I want us to have the kind of relationship where we can be honest with each other,” Will replied.

“Garbage!” he exclaimed. “'It's _weak_ , it's _depressing_.”

“It's not depressing,” Will argued. “It's touchi-”

“Excuse me, I know depressing when I see it,” Toby snapped, crumbling the paper in his hand and bouncing it off the wall. “And I notice you didn't disagree that it's weak.”

“Well, I was getting there,” Will rolled his eyes.

“We need a strong, bold return to Commander-in-Chief, not a relieved father,” Toby retorted.

“Isn't it possible we can write a speech that's both?”

“ _No_.” Toby gave him a look that dripped with condescension.

“What about 'I stand before you, with renewed conviction, to strengthen our security and preserve our freedom. To ensure the safety of _all_ our children, and fight for them to live in a world where the American values of liberty and family are protected and celebrated, and any threats are silenced...'”

“Will, Toby?” Ginger interrupted, standing in the doorway. “Leo wants you both in his office right away.”

x-x-x-x-x-x

C.J. sat at her desk, rifling through reports in preparation for what she suspected would be yet another devastating press conference, when she heard the door to her office open. She looked up, expecting to see Carol, and was caught off-guard when she saw Danny instead.

“Danny, I really can't right now,” she threatened. “I'm not kidding.”

“I know, C.J., I'm just...” he sat on the couch, rubbing his face. “Give me a minute, okay?”

She bit her lip, hesitating. She waited several seconds, trying not to notice the pain and exhaustion shadowing his expression. Finally she spoke, the anxiety audible in her low voice. “Danny, if someone from Walken's camp finds out you were in here-”

“C.J., give it a rest. In 24 hours Walken isn't going to be President anymore.” He didn't look up from his spot, crouched into himself on her couch, his face hidden.

C.J. was silent, her head in her hands as she sat at her desk.

“I'm not here as a reporter,” he said quietly a moment later.

“Excuse me?” her head shot up, feeling a surge of panic. “No. We are emphatically not talking about...that.”

“Well, if it's ' _emphatically_ ',” he sighed, averting his eyes in frustration.

“Do I look like I'm in the mood for you to be a smartass?” she demanded.

“No. I'm sorry.” He allowed himself to glance at her for half a second. “C.J., I'm not here about that either. Not exactly.”

“Then what do I owe the pleasure, Danny?” she asked sarcastically. “Sorry to be brusque, but, you know, in case you hadn't heard, my boss's daughter and god knows who else have been _kidnapped_.”

He shook his head, gathering his breath and looking up at her through bloodshot eyes. “I thought you might need to talk,” he said finally.

“Excuse me?” she gaped at him, snorting. “You thought I might need to _talk_?”

Danny stared at the floor, before meeting her gaze. A moment passed.

“Did it bother you, how I acted after Rosslyn?”

“Of course it did, you were a pain in my ass then, and you're a pain in my ass now-”

“C.J.”

C.J. halted, trying to read his expression. “What?” she asked, clearly shaken. “Danny...” she searched the air between them, trying to grasp something to focus on. “God, where did that come from?”

“Did it?”

She stared at him. “...A little,” she said finally. “But afterwards, I was relieved. I thought about it, and I was relieved.”

He nodded. “I did it because I thought it was what you needed. What we both needed, really.” He took a deep breath. “But C.J., you know what was going on here, you know the Shareef story was different. I was persistent because I had to be, because no one else was and the people deserved to know.”

“Danny, do you really need to tell me this?” She stared at him, the unspoken reminder of what she'd done hanging over them.

“I just thought...maybe it was an excuse,” he said. “Maybe it was selfish.” Their eyes met. “Rosslyn. I told myself that you didn't need a lover, you needed to keep it together. But maybe it was selfish. I knew, that if I let myself think about it, if I _really_ focused on what had happened...I was terrified, and I couldn't afford to be terrified. You had enough on your plate, I couldn't let myself allow the confusion of...feelings...add to what you were going through. I couldn't. And I couldn't let myself take advantage of it.” His head had fallen back into his hands.

“Danny,” she said quietly, her voice tentative. “I don't know what you want me to-”

He shook his head, looking up at her earnestly. “I know you're scared,” he said, in his familiar soft voice. “I know you're stressed. But if I sit here with you, if I can offer you the smallest semblance of comfort to you while we wait...C.J. you know me, you know I'm not looking for a story. I just want to sit with you.” His voice had a rasp of desperation to it that always made her throat catch, whether she wanted it to or not.

“Danny,” she said carefully, now studying him cautiously. “Do _you_ need to talk?”

He watched her, his face unreadable. Her heart was breaking, and she was about to speak again, when he answered. “No,” he said finally. “I don't need to talk.”

C.J. looked at him, her voice gentle. “Danny, if anything happens to any of them...it's not your fault.”

He blinked, his gaze settling on Gail. “I'm sorry C.J., I know you're busy,” he said, looking suddenly stiff. “I just wanted to offer support if you needed it. As friends. We should both get back to work.” He exited before she could gather her voice.

C.J. closed her eyes, trying not to think about what had just happened.

A moment later she heard someone clear their throat, and opened her eyes, startled. “C.J.?” Carol asked tentatively, examining her from the doorway. “Leo wants to see you right away.”

o-o-o-o-o

She met Will and Toby in the hall, entering Leo's office together. Josh was already there, pacing silently, his hands in his pockets.

“What's going on?” C.J. asked, staring around.

“We need to pick a Vice-President. Now. We're going to sit here, and come up with a shortlist, and by the end of this meeting we will have someone.” Leo's voice was gravelly.

C.J. sat down, staring at him. “Leo?” He turned to look at her. “What's going on?” she repeated, her voice softer.

“I can't discuss it,” he said firmly. “But Walken is more determined than ever to appoint a Vice-President, what with the Senate Pro Tempore in life-threatening danger - since _as we all know_ ,” he rolled his eyes. “He's _next in the line of succession_.” He shook his head, and Will ducked his eyes. “Come on.  Let's get started.”

Josh turned from the window, surveying them.

“We don't need to discuss it. I know who we're picking.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “Care to share with the class?” he asked dryly.

Josh gazed at them. “Ismael Sabir.”

“ _What?!”_ Leo demanded, exasperated. The room stirred.

“The Senator from Illinois?” Will clarified, disbelieving.

“Congress will _never_ confirm him,” Leo said, staring at Josh as if he were crazy.

“I know,” Josh said calmly.

“You _know_?” Leo repeated. Then it hit him, and he rolled his eyes, rubbing his face. “Good God.”

“What am I missing here?” Will asked, as C.J. started lazily swinging one of her long legs back and forth in her chair, not looking at anyone. Toby threw himself down in the chair next to her.

“Walken's going to appoint someone whether we go to him with a name or not,” Josh said in a clear voice. “We don't have time to vet everyone, or come up with a serious list. We need to name the most progressive, out-there VP possible. He'll never get confirmed, and it'll tie up Congress's time, so they can't try and push through Conservative legislation and take advantage of the situation. Walken will go through with it because he knows it's a no-go. It'll make him look bipartisan and generous, perhaps the ONLY time he'll ever be referred to as 'bipartisan' in his entire career, whilst really making the Democrats look even weaker when he doesn't get confirmed.”

Leo shook his head. “He's right.”

“What if he gets confirmed though?” Will asked.

“He won't,” Toby replied, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I got a dead guy elected,” Will reminded him.

“The man has a funny-sounding Muslim name, and we're currently under attack by fundamentalists!” Toby shouted. “We're going to get laughed out of office! Forget winning back the House during the midterms, we're going to lose the Senate too! How is that an advantage?” Toby snapped.

“We keep Congress from pushing legislation until Zoey Bartlet is found, and we avoid getting a Republican named Vice President. It's not a win.” Josh looked around. “It's a compromise.”

o-o-o-o-o

_Fade in from black_

Her first groggy thought upon waking up was a vague embarrassment at noticing she needed to reapply fresh deodorant. A moment later she sludged her way further towards consciousness, trying to remember where she was.

Then it hit her. She was locked in a closet, one room over from the bigger walk-in closet housing her fellow prisoners. Her brain was full of fuzzy images, her thoughts muddled from an unknown drug.

Her face was raw and stinging, and she thought back to the days of skinned knees and scraped elbows, her mother patiently sitting crouched in front of her, applying a clean cloth and soothing gel to kill infection, the sensation of pressure as the woman gently pressed the band-aid against her skin. She explained every step of the way, what she was doing and why, even when Zoey had suffered enough skinned knees to keep the band-aid company in business for a year. Afterward, her mother swept her up into her arms, congratulating her on being a brave girl, promising her an extra scoop of ice cream with dinner.

The image faded from her mind as the smell of blood and decay drifted back over her senses. She'd never felt pain like this.

“Daddy,” she whispered.

She heard a rustle outside the closet door and cringed, mustering the rest of her energy to scoot a few more inches back against the wall.

The door opened, and a string of words she couldn't understand escaped the man bending over her. He sounded angry. They always sounded angry.

She spotted the bat a moment later, and winced, subconsciously preparing herself. She heard the screams escape her as he whipped it at her, sounding just as foreign to her as the unknown language. She tasted blood, mixing with the salt of her tears, and then everything went black.

END CREDITS

 


End file.
